


How to cheer up Padfoot

by disposableteen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Marauders' Era, Sirius' crappy family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:26:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9482738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disposableteen/pseuds/disposableteen
Summary: Remus is woken up by a brooding Padfoot.





	

Remus’ sleep schedule revolves around the moon. From sleeping fitfully and barely at all around the full moon to enjoying long, dreamless nights in between. He always tries to make the most out of those, going to bed as early as possible, without having his friends mock him.  
Which is why he groans pitifully as something warm and heavy lands on him in his bed, waking him up from one of his good sleeps.  
“Sirius, I swear, if you don’t get off me right this second…” he mutters out and pulls his covers up over his head. Who else would it be?  
There’s a whine above him and then paws are digging into his chest. Padfoot then.  
“Go to sleep..!”  
Another whine, and then the big black dog stills on top of him. But he doesn’t leave. 

Remus is exhausted, it’s got to be very early, and he just wants to enjoy one of his rare good nights. And still he finally pushes the covers off himself and wriggles out onto the floor, accidentally taking Padfoot with him who lands not so gracefully on his paws.   
“Right, what’s the matter?”  
He glances around the room, but James and Peter are still in their beds. Peter is snoring like usual, and James is well on his way to sliding out of his bed. Like usual. Sirius’ bed is empty, naturally, except for something white and flat in the middle of it.   
Remus walks up to it, with Padfoot twisting around his legs anxiously. It’s a letter, closed with the Black family crest. It isn’t opened, but he knows that’s only because Sirius already knows what’s in it. Atleast they didn’t send a howler, Peter is not pleasant at this hour.  
“Right”, Remus sighs and looks down at his friend.  
Padfoot is stubbornly turned away, staring at a corner of the room. These letters have arrived atleast once a week ever since Sirius ran away, and they have made a game out of who can come up with the most imaginative way of destroying them. It lifts his spirits most days, but Remus has a feeling it won’t work this time. Padfoot wouldn’t have woken him up then.   
Sirius once confessed, a bit beyond tipsy, that feelings are much easier to deal with as Padfoot. There are no conflicting instincts or feelings for dogs. You either feel happy or sad or angry, not all at once. Remus can put two and two together, especially since his friend is still avoiding his eyes.  
“Right”, he says again. “Want me to grab that ball you’re hiding in your trunk and throw it for you?”  
Padfoot looks up at him immediately, and he recognises that look in his eyes, even though he’s used with seeing it in human ones. It’s Sirius’ oh-my-Merlin-you-better-not-be-joking look.  
“Come on”, he smiles a tiny bit and puts on his favorite jumper and finds the ball in Sirius’ favorite hiding place (under his socks, naturally).

 

The air is cold and crisp, and the eastern sky is just getting bright. The walk along the lake until Remus deems them far away enough from the castle windows and throws the ball as hard as he can into the woods. He may not be great at sports (he is the kind of person who ducks away from a ball instead of diving forward to catch it), but he does have have some werewolf strength. It’s enough to make Padfoot’s ears perk up, and he flies through the morning mist in between the trees.   
Remus leans back against a tree trunk and watches him with slight fascination. Padfoot runs with such grace and fluidity that it seems impossible that he is in fact the other form of Sirius Black. Every muscle has it’s purpose, every part of him working in perfect harmony, and the result is him almost flying. It looks as if his paws never actually touch the ground.  
He returns after only a few seconds, dropping the now drool covered ball at Remus’ feet, and he wrinkles his nose as he picks it up.  
“Gross”, he says matter of factly, but he throws it again. And again. And again. Even though he’s tired and cold and they have transfiguration in just a couple of hours. It’s all worth it to see Padfoot’s tail wag like crazy every time he proudly drops the ball at his feet.


End file.
